


we've grown apart, but our roots remain in the same place

by void_glitter



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: (because thats all i write lol), OC-centric, Reunions, She's Got a Backstory(tm) but it's not revelant yet, let's see how long it takes me to get to it lol, uhh fuck i can't. think of what to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_glitter/pseuds/void_glitter
Summary: Reunited, and it feels so good.--"Hi, Daddy. I'm home."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> gf: eliza.  
> me: yeah?  
> gf: are u really starting another multichap fic  
> me: y.yeah. 
> 
> there's been so much scroldie content on my dash lately on account o the scroldie week thing and I Was Inspired.. to write something entirely for me lol 
> 
> as usual i wrote this fic like all at once while blasting country music so yknow its good

Rosalie sits in her car, hands curled around the steering wheel. Her heart is racing behind her ribcage.

She's parked a short walk away from home. _Home_. The word rings true, though in reality she hasn't been here or called this place home in years. And now, on this regular, overcast day, the sun weakly shining through the cover of clouds, she's here, again. An entirely different woman than she was the day she stormed out.

Her phone pings, taking her attention from her musing. She grabs the sleek black device and checks it.

 _Diana_ : Good luck, lovely <3

Her smile twitches. Diana's the only one who knows what she's doing today-- and she's entirely supportive of it. "He's your dad, hun." She said that morning, kissing Rosalie's cheek. "Go home, where you're meant to be. Paxton and I'll be here when you want to come back."

So, now she's sitting in her car, hands curled around the steering wheel. Her heart continues to race behind her ribcage. She feels anxious and lightheaded. Will her father be angry? Hurt? Will he cry?

That's a question, isn't it?

Will her father cry?

Will her strong father, known for his toughness-- cry over her?

That makes her feel even worse than the possibility of him being angry.

She takes a deep breath, and drives up to the gate.

 

Rosalie parks her car outside of the large front door of the mansion. She hasn't been in this place since she was twenty, a whole nineteen years ago... and yet, as she gets out of the car, it feels familiar. Nothing much seems to have changed.

She shoulders her large purse and walks up to the front door.

"Alright, Rosa." She says to herself, staring up at the imposing structure of the mansion. "No pressure. You're just... seeing your father... for the first time in nearly two decades..." She blinks hard, before laughing softly. "Oh my god I can't do this..." She rubs her face and rakes her hands through her golden hair, disrupting its natural curls. "Okay, okay, you have to do this, Rosalie. Just... knock. Simple. Sincere. Say hello."

Rosalie rearranges her hair, pulling it into a loose bun as her bangs fall around her face. She knocks, firmly.

A large, intimidating woman opens the door. Her hair is grey, pulled up into a bun far more severe than Rosalie's own, and her square glasses somehow make her face look more intimidating than anything else.

"...Hi," Rosalie squeaks softly, waving with a shaking hand.

The woman nods firmly. "Hello, Miss McDuck." She says, inclining her head slightly. "Come in. Mr. McDuck is up in his study." She steps aside, gesturing Rosalie in.  
"Oh, okay," She says, somewhat weakly, and she allows the woman to guide her inside.

The mansion looks just as she left it... well, mostly. Some of the paintings are different, for instance, and more coats and boots in the little alcove that holds such things. Some of them are small, as if for children, and they're all in different colors. Red, blue, green, pink, teal...

A few small footsteps come from a nearby doorway. As Rosalie and the large woman pass the door, four small faces peek out. Rosalie turns to look at them, brows furrowed, and they're... familiar, for some reason. Something about the eyes...

"This way, Miss McDuck." The woman calls, leading her up the stairs.

The walk is quiet and tense. Rosalie is so nervous she can practically feel herself shaking, and she's wondering just how long this is going to take. Her wool sweater makes her feel like she's melting. It's warmer inside than she thought it'd be.

Finally, they stop outside of a closed door. The woman knocks, before opening the door swiftly and stepping aside. She gestures for Rosalie to step in.

"Make it quick, Beakley, I'm busy," A familiar voice says, one that Rosalie hasn't dared to hear in so long. She swallows her anxiety and steps into the study, putting her hands behind her back. "What is it?" Scrooge looks up, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

There's a mess of papers and pens and such on his desk, and he looks... almost the same, after all this time. His eyes are the same blue as hers. His whiskers are perhaps a bit fluffier than before, and he might be a tad greyer. But in general, he's still the same man she fought with nineteen years ago.

Rosalie smiles shakily. She waves, one arm still behind her back. She can't yet speak.

His face softens dramatically in under a minute, the pen held in his hand being set gently on the desk, the papers rustling as he stands up. His chair squeaks on the floor.

He rounds the desk, and looks her over. "...Rosalie?" he asks, voice breaking at the end of her name.

She steps forward and hugs him. "Hi, Daddy," she says, into his shoulder. "I'm home."

It takes a minute for him to respond, making Rosalie think for the briefest moment that he is angry, that she shouldn't have come home, that she should turn tail and run home to her newly built family...

All those nervous thoughts are dashed as Scrooge picks her up into his arms, spinning the two of them around as he laughs. "Rosalie! Rosalie, my beautiful girl!" he says half into her messy hair, hugging her so tight her shoulders protest with a crack.

"Daddy!" she laughs, hugging him just as tight, pressing a kiss to his fluffy cheek.

He squeezes her tighter for just a moment more, before setting her back on the floor. Her flats land with a muffled thunk on the carpet. He looks her over with a grin. "Look at you," he says, voice hushed. "You look just like your mother!"

Rosalie can't help the awed smile that comes to her face. "I do?" she asks, brushing off her jeans. "I mean, I know I have her hair, but..." She brushes a strand of gold from her eyes. "I... I haven't seen her in a long time."

His face falls a little, and he feigns interest in her hands. "I haven't either." he whispers, and for a moment, Rosalie wonders if the two of them have changed at all while she was gone. Her father distracts her by taking her hands, and looking intently at the left one. "You're married?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over the simple silver band on her finger.

Rosalie knows it's just a chance to change the topic, and she's grateful for it. "I'm engaged." She tells him, pride creeping into her voice. "We-- we, uh, already have a son."

He looks up at her, eyes wide in delight. "A _son_?" he asks, voice almost reverent. "I have a _grandson_?"

She nods, more pride welling at the excited look on his face. "Yeah. He looks a lot like you, actually," she grins at the near-hysterical giggle that leaves his mouth. "Wait until I tell him who his grandpa is. He's gonna lose it, he already thinks you're the coolest person ever."

"That's because I am, lass." He says, a matching look of pride on his face. He laughs again and holds her face in his hands, kissing her forehead. "Oh, Rosalie, I missed you so much."

"I did too." She admits, leaning into his hands. And they just sit like that, for a moment-- father and daughter, sharing a wonderful moment of affection, the likes of which they both sorely need.

Scrooge pulls back, brushing her bangs from her face. "The kids are going to love you, Rosa."

Rosalie's brows furrow. " _Kids_?" She echoes, confused. "Did you-- did you and mom have more kids?" She gasps excitedly, grabbing her father's coat and tugging at it. "Daddy, do I have _SIBLINGS_?"

He blinks, confused, before laughing brightly and patting her shoulder. "Oh, darling, no. They're my nephews and my nieces. Your cousins." He laughs once more and pulls her gently towards the door. "Let's meet them. And then you can tell us more about your family." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this chapter make sense? likely not, but my emotions are frazzled today and i just wanted to get This out there
> 
> it's got PLOT BITS babey 
> 
> also i burnt my mouth on my ramen today bc i was so focused on writing this. That's Life I Guess

 

"Oh, he's cute!" Webby says, all but squeezing herself up next to Rosalie. "Is he yours?"

Rosalie jolts a little at her voice, clutching her phone tighter. She's been tensely sitting on the couch ever since Scrooge ran off to get someone (she thinks she might've heard Lena mentioned, whoever that is) and the interruption of a teenage girl is surprising.

"Um... yes, he is." She says, in reference to the picture of Paxton on her lock screen. "He's my son."

"What's his name? Followup question..." Webby leans back, narrowing her eyes, and pokes Rosalie in the chest. She squeaks. "Who are you?!"

Rosalie pats the hand on her chest. "Rosalie! Rosalie McDuck...?" she waves shyly. "I, y'know... I'm Scrooge's daughter...?"

There's a moment of tense silence, before Webby screeches a " _WHAT_?!" and hops off the couch, looking Rosalie over with a critical eye. She feels like what a strand of thread in her sewing machine must feel-- pinned and being pulled about.

"You're-- you're really Rosalie McDuck!" Webby says adoringly, waving her hands about. "Oh my gosh, I've wanted to know more about you for SO LONG, but Uncle Scrooge doesn't talk about you, and I can't ask Aunt Goldie because she, uh, kind of scares me!" She puts her hands in fists under her chin. "Where have you been?!"

Rosalie blinks in bewilderment, and an emotion she refuses to name wells up in her. She's taken aback by Webby's adoration, by the fact that Webby wants to talk about her, by the fact that her father hasn't spoken about her in forever (her stomach twists unpleasantly-- _parts of her own family don't even know about her!_ ) and by the fact that this little girl is staring at her with sparkling eyes, obviously clinging to all of her words.

She resolves to just be as honest as possible. "I've been working a lot... I went to college for a long time, and now I have a job, and a family..." She says, avoiding Webby's eyes. If she doesn't know why Rosalie left in the first place, she refuses to tell her.

Webby bounces up and down excitedly, squealing. "Ooooh, you have a family! Are you married? I know you have a son, do you have any other kids? Beloved pets? Houseplants who are basically part of the family?" She asks, bouncing with more intensity. "I need to get a notebook!"

"Uhhh..." Rosalie is spared from having to answer the insistent rambling by the other three children she saw before, and an older-looking girl trailing behind them, entering the room, herded by her father. She doesn't think she's ever seen him smile so wide at anyone who isn't her mother.

"Kids," He says, voice warm, and he pats one of the three boys on the head (the blue one). "This is Rosalie. My daughter." He smiles over at her, making her very soul feel as bright and warm as the summer sun. She missed being smiled at by him. It makes her feel like she can do anything. "Rosa, these are Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Lena." He pats each child accordingly, though he pats Lena (the tall girl) far gentler. "And I've seen you've met Webby."

Webby is still staring at her, though she's stopped bouncing. Huey, Dewey, and Louie hide behind Lena, confused at the sight of this stranger who they're supposedly related to. Dewey, in particular, goes wide-eyed at the word "daughter".

Huey (the one in red) approaches her first, holding out a hand. "Hi." He says, smiling at her curiously.

She shakes his hand with a grin. "Hi! Oh, you three must be Della's boys, right?" She asks, nodding to the other boys. Huey's face falls, and Dewey and Louie both frown. Rosalie realizes she could have tackled that a little more tactfully. "Sorry, sorry, I should've realized-- you guys know what happened, right?" Her eyes dart to Scrooge, who avoids her gaze. " _Right_?" She speaks with a bit more firmness.

"Yeah, we know." Dewey pipes up. There's a touch of bitterness in his voice, though it quickly melts, a smile replacing it. "But we didn't know about _you_! How did we not know about you?"

Rosalie laughs uncomfortably. The fact that these kids, Della's kids, the kids of the woman who was basically her little sister, don't know about her, kind of hurts. She's going to have to bring that up to Daddy. "Well, I've-- been away for a while." She smiles, as best she can. "But I'm here now!"

The kids take turn properly introducing themselves, and she gathers bits and pieces of information about the time they've spent here-- plenty of adventuring (a tidbit shared in Dewey's excited voice) lots of treasure (shared by Louie, who's eyes don't stray from her hair, eyes narrowed as if she's a puzzle he's trying to decipher) and lots and lots of cool, interesting things (via Huey, who's eyes sparkle as he goes into a tale about the mummies of Toth-ra).

Webby settles in next to her and begins rambling about her research and herself in general-- apparently, she's been researching Scrooge and his family since she was six, her full name is Webbigail, but almost no one calls her that, she wants to be an explorer, Lena (who perches herself on the arm of the armchair a few feet away and stares at her phone) is her best friend in the entire world, and she reiterates several times how happy she is meet Rosalie.

Scrooge sits across from them, the boys sitting around on the couch near Rosalie and Webby against her side and Lena just slightly seperated from them, and smiles at them endlessly. Rosalie thinks that he has changed, definitely-- even when she and the twins were little, he never really looked at them like this. Sure, he loved them, that was never in doubt, but... maybe time has softened him, just a little.

For her own part, Rosalie thinks she does pretty well. She sits with the kids all around her, and replies to their excited conversations and tidbits about their lives with equal joy.

Because, really-- she likes this. She likes being around her family again, even if this particular part is new to her. The kids are wonderful, really, and they remind her of when she was their age. Especially Louie, who's more quiet and relaxed, who seems more into sitting around and staying at home. (Rosalie, admittedly, was never much of an adventurer or a treasure hunter. But if she dwells on it, and what it caused her, she'll get upset, so she doesn't.)

Rosalie's phone rings in her pocket, interrupting Dewey's tale about something or the next. "Excuse me," She says, standing up from the couch and drifting to the edge of the room. The pulls her phone out and presses the answer button.

"Hey, Di." She says lightly, leaning on a sidetable. "How're you?"

"Good, good. I just got outta work," Diana says. Rosalie can hear her beat up old car rumbling. "How's the reunion goin', hun?"

"Pretty good," She looks over at the children, who have all settled together on the couch and are still rambling at eachother. "Met some of my cousins, reunited with Daddy... I'm probably gonna stay for dinner, if they'll let me." She pauses, thinking of how this will throw off their routine. "I mean, if that's okay?"

"You kidding?" Diana laughs, all high and sweet, like a bell. "Pax and I can manage one night without you, Rosa. Stay with your family."

"You're sure it's okay?" Rosalie asks, worrying the hem of her sweater between her fingers. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Rosa, honey." Diana makes a 'tch'ing sound and she can hear the car screech to a stop. "Stay with them."

Rosalie sighs deeply, nodding though Diana can't see her. "Alright, alright. Tell Paxton I love him, m'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I will. I love you, too, y'know."

"Love you too, Di. Now, get off your phone, you're driving."

Diana laughs one more time, and hangs up after a goodbye.

"Were you talking to your girlfriend?" Huey asks when she comes back over to sit down, looking up from a book he seems to have pulled from thin air. (Seriously, where did he get the book?)

"Fiancée, but yes, I was talking to her." Rosalie tucks her phone into her pocket and smiles perhaps a bit too sweetly. "Maybe I'll bring her over sometime." (She hopes, to anyone who's listening, that she'll be allowed to do such things.)

"I'd like that." Scrooge pipes up from his side of the room, looking at her with raised brows. "I do have to make sure she's good enough for you."

Rosalie giggles, feeling like she's a teenager again, because he said that with all her past boyfriends. (They weren't good enough for her, but she didn't realize she was into girls until college. Whoops.) "Sure, Daddy. I'm sure you'll like her."

He smiles at her, a bit sly, something in his eyes reading "challenge", and she has to resist rolling her eyes, cementing the feeling of being younger than she actually is.

"When are you guys getting married?" Webby asks curiously, kicking her feet off the couch.

"Eh... we're not sure. We don't have any plans set in stone, and we both work, so we have to find time when we're both off." Rosalie leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "We'll do it eventually, though. Who knows, maybe you'll be invited." She reaches over to poke Webby's side, making her giggle and wiggle aside to avoid the tickling.

The day passes in a similar manner-- the kids demand a lot of her attention, dragging her around to see things around the mansion, despite Huey and Webby's repeated claims that she'd already know everything there is to know.

"I'm sure you guys have added a little more." She says sincerely, allowing Dewey to pull her around by the hand. "Besides, I haven't been here in forever."

While they drag her around (or, in Louie and Lena's case, are dragged themselves) she fills them on her life, which pales in comparison to theirs.

"I'm a tailor, and an artist," She says, as Dewey shows off a cool sword he scored on an adventure and asks her what she does for a living. "I make dresses and costumes, mostly." She pauses, before laughing a bit bitterly. "I know, it's not as cool as adventuring or running a company." (She heard that occasionally, growing up. "Don't you want to do something a little more... more like what we do?")

"I think it's cool," Louie says. "Sounds like it's a lot less deadly."

"I dunno, pins and needles can do some damage to your fingers." Rosalie says thoughtfully, inspecting her fingers. There's little scars all over them. "And scissor mishaps happen all the time." That brings a round of giggles, and she grins.

Eventually, they end up going outside. The sun finally broke through the clouds, casting it's light all over the grounds, seeming to concentrate, oddly, on the houseboat in the pool.

Wait.

"Sooo... why is there a boat in the pool?" She asks, as Huey and Dewey pull her outside.

"'Cause Uncle Donald's both living on it and working on fixing it... for like, the hundredth time." Dewey tells her, pulling her over to the pool.

Rosalie skids to a stop, despite the hands on her sweater. "Wait, Donald's here? Like, really here?" She asks, excitement crawling into her limbs. Out of her family, excluding her parents, Donald was always her favorite. They grew up side by side, Rosalie only being a few years older than him and Della, and she always saw him as a little brother, of sorts.

"Yep, he's probably napping." Huey says, trying to pull her again. "He'll probably be happy to see you, c'mon!"

Rosalie's face splits with a grin. "Oh, I'm sure he will." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> donald, waking up from a nap: something's approaching that will cause me to have emotions  
> rosa, outside: (jaws theme) 
> 
> my fics are an endless series of reunions and that's valid of me i think 
> 
> next chapters gonna have donald AND drama... which means i'm goin to have a blast


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get DRAMATIC here y'all 
> 
> also i didn't really mention it previously but this takes place in an au version of season 2 (where della isn't home yet but lena is). it's not Super important but setting is important actually. 
> 
> (i wrote 50% of this at 3am last night and the rest while slurping down a large pot of coffee so if anything is a huge mess thats why but it's my fic and i make the rules)

Dinner is a nearly jolly affair.

Rosa sits squished between Donald and Webby at the table, a seat or two away from Scrooge.

Donald had been somewhere between horrified and ecstatic to see her. He had stepped onto the deck of the houseboat, shielding his eyes with his hand, and noticed the familiar woman among his kids.

Though he would deny it if questioned, his face split with a grin and he ran down the ramp in excitement. Rosalie had been nearly knocked over by him hugging her, lifting her off her feet.

"Jeez, Don, you've just-- ow-- gotten stronger!" She half-gasped, returning the hug with almost equal intensity and intention, if not strength. "I feel even _more_ like you're going to break my ribs, now!"

As soon as he composed himself, he had started talking and talking, seemingly excited to be around someone else who can understand him. (Rosa can understand him, of course, because of growing up with him, and making an effort.)

"It's been forever-- where have you been?-- your hair has gotten so long, Rosa--" Donald hugged her around the shoulders once more and almost giggled. (That's been the case ever since they were younger, even when he was a surly teen-- Donald turns into a happy little kid around her.) "You're wearing a ring, did you--"

"No, Donnie, I'm not married," Rosa said with a giggle, ruffling his hair. "Jeez, I've had to answer that so many times today."

(When did he get so tall? And so... adult-looking? In her mind's eye, he's still a teenager in his blue flannels and band shirts and fluffy hair. Not this adult, tough-looking, tired man. Somehow, though, it fits.)

She smiles at him, looking him over a few times. The black uniform looks good on him. "Are you, though? To... those boyfriends of yours?"

Donald's face immediately fluffed and he lowered his head to avoid her gaze. "No," He said unconvincingly, shooting the staring group of kids a look. "I'm still single, Rosa." She arched a brow, but let it drop. If she has her way, she'll have plenty of chance to pester the details out of him.

At the table, the air is filled with childish chatter. Rosa even gets to actually hear Lena speak-- she hadn't said a word to her outside of a tense hello and such. She's quiet but not shy-- she has confidence in every word. She sits next to Webby, sitting with her head propped on her hand as she waits for her meal.

"I'm adopted," She says when Rosalie questions who she's related to, how they're related. "You'd have to ask the old man for details, but he adopted me."

Scrooge looks mildly offended to be referred to as 'the old man' but it seems to be routine, as he doesn't comment on it. "Lena considers herself my niece, and I have no problem with that." he says, sipping from his drink. "Though, legally, she's my daughter."

A creepy-crawly feeling, the self doubt Rosalie has beaten back for a good thirty of her thirty-nine years, creepy-crawls up her back. It make her skin crawl and her feathers ruffle, and she hopes _that's_ not obvious. "Ah," she says eloquently. "That's nice. So you're either my sister or my cousin?"

Lena rolls her eyes. "Sure, if you wanna look at it that way." She says, somewhat bitterly. (Rosalie is hilariously reminded of Donald pretending not to be related to her or any of his other cousins (and on more extreme days, Della).) "Don't ask me to start being nice, though. I'm bad at it."

"No, you're not!" Webby sing-songs from next to her, leaning her head on Lena's shoulder. "Don't listen to her, Rosalie. She's nice, you just gotta... look for it."

Rosalie can't help but grin when the faintest dusting of pink covers both Lena's cheeks and her bill, and she seems to try and hide it by picking at the oversized sleeve of her sweater. She turns to Donald, getting his attention by tugging his sleeve.

"So what have you done while I was gone?"

And that gets him talking. The meal is delicious, made by the oddly-familiar Mrs. Beakley, though Rosalie can't quite put a finger on why she's so familiar. Something about her voice and her body...

 

"So." Rosalie starts, sitting back in the chair she claimed long ago as hers in one of the sitting rooms. The house is quiet, now, the children all ushered to bed, lights turned out, dishes washed, everything quiet and dead.

Rosalie has been both dreading and anticipating this moment all day.

"Webby told me you haven't talked about me in a long time." She tries not to make it sound accusatory because she doesn't mean for it to, she really doesn't. She's more curious than anything.

Across from her, Scrooge sits comfortably in his own chair, watching her with adoring eyes that slowly fade as she speaks. "Well... lass, you didn't exactly leave me-- us--" He looks conflicted, for a moment, and Rosalie understands. There's a vital part of this discussion missing.

( _Like always_ , that little, bitter part of Rosalie says. She smacks it back with a metaphorical broom.)

"You didn't leave in a very clean way, let's say. And, well, you were gone a long time." He finally finishes, hands folding over his stomach. "And your mother and I... we were in a bit of a rough patch, then. You fighting with us, and disappearing like that... it was a lot." he sighs, deeply, and for just a flash of a second, he looks just as old as he really is. A hundred and fifty-odd years have etched themselves into every feather.

"So you didn't talk about me because it'd just open a big old box of bad?" Rosalie asks, avoiding his eyes. "I mean... that makes sense. I did leave right out of nowhere, because I was mad--" Because Mom said--, that bitter part pipes up, and she smacks it back again. "Because I _fought_ with Mom." she pauses, staring out a nearby window. She taps her fingers on her demin-covered lap. "I... I meant to come back sooner. But things kept coming up, I got into some... bad stuff, I met Di, I had Paxton, I..." she pauses, her throat suddenly feeling tight.

For a second, all she can see is messily chopped off golden hair, covering the bathroom sink in her apartment, the smears of red hair dye that look like blood. She can see the unfamiliar, redheaded version of herself in her reflection, a girl with years of bitterness she tamped down because she didn't have her mother's ability to be ruthless.

She blinks hard, and finds tears rolling down her cheeks. Just a few, not a lot. She was wondering when she'd cry.

"I don't blame you for not coming home." Scrooge says, looking over at her again. His eyes (the only thing about him that matches her one hundred percent) are not soft and adoring, not anymore, but they're still familiar, a welcome sight. "Looking back, I realize... I could have done better. I could have stopped that fight from happening entirely. Your mother... stubborn as she is... she'd listen to my advice, on occasion."

Rosalie laughs bitterly and wipes her face on her sleeve. The tears stain the pink fabric of her sweater darker. "Not often," She says, still laughing. "I don't blame you, either. Not for the fight, at least." She plays with her locket. (She'd never admit it, or at least not now, but she has a picture of each of them inside.) "Have you... have you talked to Mom, at all?"

The soft, loving expression overtakes her father again. "A few times. We've been... _apart_ , for a while." He admits, resting his head on a curled fist. "We've talked about you, too. We've both missed you."

Sure she did, the bitterness says. Mom might have actually missed me, a happier part of her says, light and bright as a rose. "Why did neither of you ever come to try and find me?" She asks, staring back at the window, because the idea that looking Scrooge in the eye right now its too much. "I was gone for a long time, Daddy." 

"We did try, at first. We might have disagreed on a lot of things, but we agreed we needed to make things right with you." He sighs, lowly. "But then we had a fight of our own, and she stormed out... you really are just like her..." (Her stomach twists horribly, making her feel awfully ill. She's heard that for so long...) "And we decided it would be better to just let you live your own life. And then there was everything with Della, and... Well, I hadn't had much space to thing about looking for you." 

Unlike usual, when Rosalie hears about Della being preferred or focused on in any way, there's no bitterness or jealousy. (That's what happens when you grow up, she thinks.) "I'm sorry I wasn't here, Daddy. When Della disappeared." She plays with her locket a little more, the metal chain pressing into her feathered fingers. "Donald said he left, too, and you were alone... I feel bad when I think about it."

Scrooge chuckles, somewhat bitterly. "It was hard, I'll admit. Your mother was there for a bit, but... I was alone, yes." He absently rubs the back of his neck. "I don't blame you for that, either, though. You had your own life... odd as it is to think about." 

"I wonder what Mom would think about that," Rosalie says, almost dreamily. "I don't know if she'd like Diana. And she's never really liked kids..." 

"But she loved you, and your son will likely be no different." He's almost smug. Rosalie wants to roll her eyes, but the bitterness chokes her off. The last time she spoke to her mother, she said-- "You know she was never very good at admitting that she cares." 

"No, she wasn't. Remember how grumpy she'd always get when she had to put us kids to bed?" Rosalie laughs. Goldie would grumble and frown and mutter about how much she didn't want to, but all the same, each child would get a kiss on the forehead, and when in she was in a particularly good mood, she'd sing. And oh... how her mother could sing... When she was very small, it was one of only a few things that could get her to sleep...

"She loved the three of you. Especially you, you know. The very light of her life..." Thinking about that makes her stomach twist again. Logically, she knows it's true. Her mother did far more good than bad for her. They loved eachother, despite everything. (But... that fight rears it's ugly head. It threw her into a dark place, and it caused her to take drastic measures...) 

"I love her too." Rosalie finds herself half-whispering. She gets to her feet hurriedly, trying to tamp down those feelings. It's too late to feel like that. "Diana will be expecting me home soon... I should get going." 

Scrooge's gentle expression hardens slightly. A very slight flicker of sadness takes to his eyes. "Of course." He rises as well, and embraces her tightly. "Come home again, soon, Rosalie. I've missed you so much, and the kids love you..." He kisses the side of her head, tucking her hair from her face. 

"Of course, Daddy. I'll come back as soon as I can." Rosalie hugs him back, tightly, as if the pressure of a hug can force everything back into place. "I love you."

She drives home alone. 

 

Scrooge sinks back into his chair, sighing deeply as he listens to Rosalie leaving. Seeing her again made him happy, happier than he's been in a long time. She's grown into a beautiful young woman, with a life of her own, a child of her own (and he's a handsome lad, from the picture he saw), and apparently a thriving business. As much as she wasn't what he suspected, he's proud. He should say it, next time he sees her. 

He loses himself in musing, memories of Rosa when she was small, when she was still living close to him, when Goldie was still... there, more often, when they would wake up together, live their lives side by side... 

The window creaks open, across from him, and he jolts back into reality. 

"Evening, Moneybags." Goldie says, voice light, and her boots meet the carpeted floor with a thunk. 

He sighs. They have a lot to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting into the Angst... the Drama... the Issues...
> 
> (this could be 2 chapters but it's not and y'all have to deal with it)
> 
> i meant for donald and rosa's reunion to be longer but other garbage took over and that's how writing works


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look alive, pals, there's Romance in this chapter! there's smooching! there's the implication of ~sexy times~! there's nothing too serious but it's just a heads up. (also: the scroldie tag is finally not just implied! woo!)
> 
> this chapter probably isn't as good as the other three, but i rlly wanted to get these four 'establishing' sorta chapters out of the way before i start a new job! so here's this. after this things r gonna.
> 
> also: my oh my goldie is hard to write. feel free to tell me how i did-- i don't write her often.

Rosalie shrugs her bag off her shoulder and pulls her shoes off as she enters her house. The place is mostly quiet, the only real sound the quiet murmur of the TV in the living room. She yawns, once, before wandering towards the room.

Diana and Paxton are on the couch. Diana is asleep, still wearing her salon uniform. Her hair, fluffy and bleached and a general mess, is pulled into a ponytail, the pink of her bangs falling in her eyes.

Paxton is awake, ever-wide eyes staring at the TV screen, though he looks plenty sleepy. He's snuggled up under his mommy's arm, his head on her chest. "What're you doing up?" Rosalie asks softly, stepping into the living room. "It's past your bedtime, junebug."

Paxton looks up lazily, multicolored light from the TV turning his feathers rainbow. "Mom?" he asks, squinting at her. They really need to get him some glasses-- the poor baby's near-sighted.

Rosalie hums in reply, crossing the room and settling in next to her sleeping partner and her son. "When did Mommy go to sleep, huh?" She asks, wrapping her arm around him and tugging him in to kiss the top of his head.

"Two episodes ago." Paxton mumbles into her shirt, all but crawling into her lap. "Mom, I picked strawbebbies today, at Nora's house..."

"Strawberries, Pax." Rosalie corrects gently. "That's nice, though. Did you eat them all?" She runs her hand through his still-yellow feathers.

"Mhm. Gave myself a tummyache." He nods against her. "I brought home three for Mommy, an' she was very happy."

She grins. Throughout their relationship, Diana has made it very clear that she adores strawberries. "That was sweet of you, kiddo. You wanna go to bed?"

"Mhm," Paxton wraps his tiny arms around her neck. "Gotta... gotta brush my teeth. Mommy lemme have candy earlier."

Paxton is swiftly brushed and washed, and put to bed. He's tugged comfortably into his little bed, and Rosalie sings to him to keep him in bed.

She wanders back to the living room to scoop Diana up, trying her best not to wake her. (She'd never tell her, knowing she prefers to do it, but Rosalie loves to carry her around, and works out pretty much just to be able to do it.)

Diana's eyes flutter open, and she rests her dyed head on her shoulder. "Hi," She drawls lazily. "How was your visit, babe?"

Rosalie smiles. "Wonderful. Go back to sleep, we'll talk in the morning." She lays Diana comfortably in their bed, a nest of messy black blankets and colorful pillows, and kisses her once. 

 

Before Scrooge can even get so much as a word out, Goldie is setting the bag she brought with her on the sidetable, and she's on him in a second.

Her hands grip the collar of his coat and she kisses him with the kind of passion that he suspects must come from a full sense of pride in herself-- _she must have done something_ , he thinks, somewhere in his mind. She's smiling so much it almost interrupts their kiss.

For a moment, Scrooge seriously considers not mentioning Rosalie or her visit at all, and appreciating the gift that's quite literally fallen into his lap. He hasn't seen her in a while, after all...

"How did you know where to find me?" He asks, half against her. Against his better intentions, his hands still stroke through her hair, undoing the braid she has it in at the moment. (Really, his hands seek to play with her hair almost every moment they're together. It's become a habit.)

"Saw a light on," She replies, still smiling, her voice low and sly. _Oh, she **definitely** did something_. "Am I not allowed to come to see you?" She teases, but before he can say that she is, in fact, _always_ allowed, she's shutting him up with another kiss, her hands sliding down to unbutton the top few buttons of his coat.

Aaand that makes him think that he should definitely stop this and talk to her.

"Goldie," Scrooge starts, somewhat uncertainly. The last time they discussed their daughter... it hadn't ended well. "We need to talk."

Goldie huffs, sitting back on his lap, her arms crossed. One of her brows arches suspiciously. "Alright." She says, slowly. "What's so important that it can't wait... _until morning_?"

The implication makes his face hot. It is tempting... but no, he has a duty to tell her. "Rosalie came to see me today."

It's like someone flipped a switch. The teasing expression on Goldie's face disappears, and for the barest flash of a moment, she looks scared.

Hardness replaces it, and she slips off his lap into her own chair. "Did she really?" She asks, flatly. "What made her come back?"

"She missed me." he says, leaning back into his chair. He refuses to think of it as sinking. "And she had things she wanted to tell me about."

Goldie hum-hums, crossing her arms. She looks uncomfortably serious and her eyes are dark. "About time." She mutters. "What was she thinking, disappearing for nearly twenty years?"

Well, you're the one who said what you did, you'd know, Scrooge thinks, but he doesn't say it. That's below the belt, and he knows it. "She had her reasons. She's... she's done well for herself. She's gotten engaged, her fiancee seems lovely..." He can't help the smile that crawls over his face. "She has a son."

The darkness in her eyes fades slightly. She clasps her hands tightly on her lap. Her eyes sparkle in the low lighting."Really?" She asks, this time with a slight hopefulness in her voice. "She has a son?"

He nods, hard. "His name is Paxton, he's seven. He seems like a wonderful boy." He watches her face become unusually vulnerable at the new information. "She told me she'll be coming back. I'm sure she'd like to see you again, Goldie."

Goldie looks away, staring out the window. The sky is so dark, night having fallen quickly. She's sitting right next to him, but her mind is just as far away as she's been for a long time.

"Would she? Would she really?" She asks, voice almost distracted in it's absentness. "She hasn't tried to contact me in years, and... I was the reason she left in the first place."

Scrooge shrugs. "I'm as much at fault for that as you, and she was happy to see me. She's... she's changed, I think. She's more mature, less... bitter. I don't think she holds a grudge anymore."

Goldie scoffs under her breath. "I would, if I was her." She pauses, and lets out a deep sigh. She looks back at Scrooge, and to his surprise (and silent horror) there's tears in her eyes. He can probably count on his two hands how many times he's seen Goldie cry. He's heard her cry far more-- under a cloak of darkness, or a room away-- but seeing her, really seeing her... it's rare.

"But you're not her, and she's not you." Scrooge says, gently reaching over to take one of her hands. "And I do think she misses you. She said she loves you."

Goldie makes a sound, and drops her head. Her bangs fall over her face, obscuring his features. He's sure it's so she can hide any tears or unpleasantness. "You know... you know I'm not the kind of person who regrets a lot of things, Scrooge. But what I said to Rosalie that night..." She puts her hand over her face and sighs. "I've regretted it every minute since." She says it so softly he can barely hear.

"Stay here and see her, then. You can tell her that." He says, holding her hand between both of his. "She listens. She... she'll forgive you." He smiles, as best he can in the face of her tears.

"We'll see," is all he gets, before she wipes her eyes, puts on a smile, and brings his hand close to her face, to rest it against her cheek. "Now... can we just not talk for a while?"

"Of course." He says, fitting his palm around her cheek, and leans in to kiss her.

(They end up in bed, like always. But if she stays, he knows not to mention it.) 


	5. not actually a chapter

HI hello it's your dear author here!

so, to cut right into the meat of things (??) i'm currently working in rewriting this fic, as i've done a lot of overhauling in terms of rosalie's personality and her little family (she's got two other kids now lmao) and this fic is no longer a proper representation of her n her story. i have most of what's already down here rewritten/edited!

SO!!! while i'll be leaving this fic up, i'll be posting the edited and somewhat rewritten version of this fic (likely under a new title) sometime soon! thank you for your patience in terms of this fic if you've been waiting to read it ^^"! 

see you soon! 

**Author's Note:**

> if u're wondering why goldie herself isn't here: she's SO HARD to write properly and i wanna do her Justice so she's gonna. be absent until i figure THAT out
> 
> anyway the next chapter will be up sometime in the next few days
> 
> ily stan mitski have a good day


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